Naruto: My Buff is Infinite!

The rain fell in a steady rhythm, a constant backdrop to the desolation of the Rain Village. Amatsu stood motionless in the shadows of a crumbling building, his dark eyes fixed on the horizon. The world around him was gray and lifeless, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay. Yet, within him, there was only clarity—a cold, unyielding resolve.

He stepped forward, his bare feet pressing into the wet ground. The rain soaked his thin frame, but he paid it no mind. His body, though young, moved with the precision of a predator. Each step was deliberate, each breath measured. The System hummed faintly in the back of his mind, a silent companion that awaited his command.

---

Amatsu crouched low, his fingers brushing against the wet earth. He closed his eyes, focusing inward. The faint pulse of chakra stirred within him, sluggish and unrefined.

He inhaled deeply, guiding the chakra through his body. The energy resisted at first, like a river blocked by debris, but Amatsu's will was unrelenting. Slowly, the flow steadied, following the contours of his veins like a stream carving through stone.

---

[Buff Detected: Chakra Circulation (Minimal).]

[System Notification: Buff Duration Adjusted to Infinite.]

---

The chakra within him began to flow, sluggish at first, like a stream blocked by debris. But as the System's influence took hold, the flow steadied, growing stronger, more refined. Amatsu could feel it—his chakra circulating endlessly, a self-sustaining cycle that required no effort on his part.

The System's power was absolute. What others spent years mastering through grueling training, he achieved in moments. The buff of Chakra Circulation, now set to infinite, was not merely a passive enhancement. It was a foundation, a silent revolution within his body.

As the chakra flowed, it refined itself naturally. Impurities were stripped away, inefficiencies burned out. The energy within him grew sharper, purer, with every passing moment. Amatsu's body had become a forge, and the System was the smith, hammering his chakra into something far beyond what this world's inhabitants could comprehend.

He opened his eyes, his dark gaze cold and calculating. A faint blue glow flickered around his fingertips, unstable but present. He raised his hand, watching as the light danced across his skin.

"This is the difference," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "While others waste their lives chasing scraps of power, I will surpass them without lifting a finger."

He pressed his palm against the ground. The chakra spread outward, sinking into the earth. A faint crack appeared beneath his hand, spreading outward like a spider's web before fading.

Amatsu frowned slightly, his expression unreadable. "Crude," he muttered. "But functional."

He rose to his feet, his movements fluid and precise. The rain continued to fall, a steady rhythm that seemed to echo the endless refinement within his body. The System ensured that his chakra would never stagnate, its circulation and refinement perpetual. Even as he stood still, even as he slept, his power would grow.

This was efficiency. This was perfection.

Amatsu tilted his head slightly, his gaze shifting toward the horizon. The world was broken, its people weak and blind to their own inadequacies. They clung to ideals and dreams, but those fragile things would shatter beneath the weight of reality.

---

A rusted metal beam lay across the ground nearby, its edges jagged and uneven, a relic of a forgotten time. The rain had pooled around it, forming shallow puddles that reflected the gray sky above. Amatsu approached it without hesitation, his steps deliberate, his gaze cold and calculating.

He crouched low, his fingers wrapping around the corroded surface of the beam. The metal was slick with rain, its weight pressing heavily against the earth. Amatsu's muscles coiled like steel cables, his body taut with effort as he began to lift.

The beam groaned in protest, its weight dragging against his arms and shoulders. His muscles burned, the strain threatening to overwhelm him.

---

[Debuff Detected: Muscle Strain.]

[System Notification: Debuff Removed.]

---

The pain vanished in an instant, erased as if it had never existed. The System's intervention was seamless, its power absolute. Amatsu straightened, the beam now resting above his head. His breathing remained steady, his expression calm.

He held the beam there for a moment, feeling the weight pressing down on him, testing the limits of his body. Then, with a controlled motion, he let it fall back to the ground. The impact sent a dull thud reverberating through the air, the sound swallowed quickly by the rain.

Amatsu crouched again, his fingers tightening around the beam. He lifted it once more, his movements smoother, more efficient. The System adjusted his body's limits with each repetition, clearing away the strain and allowing him to push further.

The rain continued to fall, its rhythm steady and unchanging, as Amatsu repeated the motion again and again. Each lift was sharper, more precise, his body adapting to the task with mechanical efficiency. His muscles burned with effort, but the System ensured that the pain never lingered.

By the time he finished, the beam was little more than a forgotten obstacle, its weight insignificant compared to the strength he had cultivated. Amatsu stepped back, his breathing steady, his gaze cold and unyielding.

"Strength is sufficient," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the rain. "Now… precision"

He was about to move when faint whispers of voices carried through the rain. His sharp senses caught them before they grew distinct—young voices, determined but cautious. Amatsu's head tilted slightly, his gaze narrowing as he turned toward the sound.

The voices grew louder, and soon, three figures emerged from the misty rain. The leader, a boy with bright orange hair, walked with purpose despite his soaked and tattered clothes. His intense gaze scanned the area, flicking briefly toward Amatsu before settling on the ruins around them. Flanking him was a pale-haired boy with hesitant steps and a girl whose sharp blue eyes seemed to catch every detail, including Amatsu's still figure.

They hadn't come for him. Not specifically. But he could tell from their tense postures and wary glances that they had noticed him.

"Check over there," the orange-haired boy said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "We can't leave anything behind. If we're going to help the others, we need every scrap we can find."

The girl nodded, her gaze lingering on Amatsu. "Yahiko," she said quietly, her tone cautious, "we're not alone."

The boy-Yahiko-stopped, his fiery orange hair plastered to his face by the rain. His sharp eyes turned to Amatsu, studying him for a moment before stepping forward.

"What are you doing here?" Yahiko asked, his voice firm but not hostile. It wasn't a demand, but the tone carried the weight of someone unwilling to back down.

Amatsu remained silent, his gaze cold and unreadable. He had no interest in answering the boy's questions.

When Amatsu didn't respond, Yahiko stepped closer, his posture straight and unflinching. "This area is dangerous," he said, his tone sharpening. "The fighting hasn't stopped, and the people here barely have enough to survive. If you're here to take something, you should leave now."

Amatsu's lips curled into a faint smirk, one devoid of humor. "And what makes you think I'm here to take anything?"

Yahiko's eyes narrowed. "You don't look like someone who cares about this place or the people in it. You're standing here, alone, while the rest of us are trying to survive. If you're not here to help, then you're just in the way."

Amatsu's gaze flicked toward the two behind Yahiko. The girl Konan, watched him carefully, her sharp blue eyes filled with suspicion. The pale-haired boy, Nagato, avoided his gaze altogether, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the edges of his soaked cloak.

"And what exactly are you doing?" Amatsu asked, his voice calm, almost bored. "Scavenging scraps in the rain? Is this what you call helping?"

Yahiko's jaw tightened, his fiery gaze unwavering. "We're doing what we can. We're trying to fix what's broken. People like you wouldn't understand."

Amatsu's smirk widened slightly, the faintest trace of mockery in his expression. "Fix what's broken?" he repeated, his voice softer now, almost as if he were speaking to himself. For a brief moment, a memory surfaced—fragments of his life with Kaguya, their shared dream of uniting a fractured world. He had tried to fix what was broken once, and it had ended in betrayal and ruin.

The bitterness coiled in his chest, but he forced it down. The past was irrelevant now.

"You're naïve," Amatsu said finally, his tone sharp and cutting. "This world isn't something you can fix. It will devour you, just like it devours everyone else who tries to change it."

Yahiko stepped closer, his fists trembling at his sides. "You think we don't know that?" he said, his voice rising. "You think we don't know how cruel this world is? We've lived it—every day, every moment! But that doesn't mean we stop trying. If we don't fight for something better, then what's the point of surviving at all?"

Amatsu's dark eyes locked onto Yahiko's, the smirk fading from his face. For a moment, there was only silence between them, the rain filling the space where words had been.

"You're ambitious," Amatsu said quietly, his voice colder now. "But ambition without strength is meaningless. Dreams like yours shatter the moment they collide with reality."

Yahiko's fiery gaze didn't falter. "Then we'll rebuild them," he said firmly. "As many times as it takes."

Amatsu regarded him for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Without another word, he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the mist.

As Amatsu walked, Yahiko's words echoed faintly in his mind.

"If we don't fight for something better, then what's the point of surviving at all?"

For a moment, he let the memory of Kaguya resurface—the dream they had once shared. The vision of a united world, free of suffering and war. He had believed in it once, just as Yahiko did now.

But belief wasn't enough. The world had taught him that lesson in blood and betrayal.

"Fools," Amatsu muttered under his breath. "Dreams are for the weak."

His gaze sharpened, his resolve hardening. He had no use for dreams or ideals. The only thing that mattered was power—absolute, unyielding power. Control was the only way to shape the world into something that wouldn't betray him again.

"Better?" he thought bitterly. "Better is a lie. What I will create… will be absolute."

Amatsu sat cross-legged atop a crumbling wall, the rain now a faint drizzle. His mind lingered on the trio—their determination, their potential.

"But fools can be useful if properly guided."

He closed his eyes, focusing inward once more. The System stirred faintly, its presence a constant reminder of his purpose.

This world was broken, its people weak. Amatsu could see it clearly, the cracks running through the foundation of their society like fractures in brittle glass. They clung to ideals and dreams, but those fragile things would only shatter when pressed against the weight of reality.

He had no interest in their dreams. Only his own vision mattered.

They were tools, nothing more—pieces to be positioned on the board of his future empire. If they stood in his way, they would be discarded. If they proved useful, they would serve him.

Amatsu opened his eyes, his gaze as cold as the rain.

"This world will not betray me again," he said softly. "I will bend it to my will… and none will stand above me."